A New Rome
by Anon226
Summary: Rome is divided, its generals fracturing the empire after the emperor's death, the borders overrun by barbarians. One man, Caesar Augustus, moves to reunite the dying empire, to ensure its survival against the barbarian onslaught. On Temp Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, Anon back from the grave. I apologize to all those who are waiting for a new chapter for Empire of Tamriel, Rise of the Mandalorian Empire, and The Last Jedi, it is simply not coming to me, and Empire of Tamriel is under major revision, as I have gotten many comments over how it is written, and I will try to improve, but I can't without some beneficial critique from you, the readers. So if you could leave in the suggestions anything you see that could be improved upon, from the writing, to the sentence structure, to how ideas are presented, I implore you to say so. Enough blabbering from me, here's an idea I got while playing Mount and Blade Warband, with the Imperia mod installed.**

 **WARNING,** **for those with weak constitutions, or who generally don't like dealing with gritty, dark topics such as slavery and the like, I recommend reading a different story, as this one deals with such topics a lot throughout the story, and I mean a lot, as during the Roman Empire it was a prevalent profession, and it brought prosperity to the Empire, so it will be included (it is also an important game mechanic to the mod as well, so I had to deal with slaves no matter what). I will try to emulate the general attitude towards slaves during this time period, which will probably offend a lot of people, but hey, what can you do. Without further ado, on to the story.**

 **Chapter 1: The Newcomer**

The Roman Empire, for years it stood united against the barbarous frontier, conquering all that opposed her, her military might unchallenged. The Empire had spread civilization to all corners of the known world, building roads, bridges, and cities that outclass anything that the barbarians could hope to build. Rome's military was nigh unstoppable, an undefeatable force of men and steel and horses, who built wherever they went, defeating all who opposed them. At the center of this glorious empire, stood the eternal city, Rome herself. With the expansion of its borders, Rome grew rich from the influx of new and exotic goods and slaves that were brought back by her successful legions, ranging from the elephants of North Africa, to camels of the Middle East, to the gigantic barbarian warriors as slaves from Gaul and Germania. A time of prosperity and growth befell the empire, all was well.

But, nothing lasts forever. With the success Rome has had militarily, the generals of Rome's legions grew ambitious, and began to garner support for their bid for the throne of emperor, backed by their loyal legions. Soon, these ambitious ideas led to fractures appearing in the empire, with minor roman factions forming, claiming large swaths of land for themselves, destroying all that their predecessors have worked for many years to build in a matter of months. The military had turned on itself, with numerous legions with various degrees of notoriety and fame clashing with one another in support of their candidate for emperor. In this time of instability and ruin, the barbarians saw and took their chance for freedom, capturing many of their former settlements which were under roman control, slaughtering all who supported Rome, putting their heads on pikes at the entrance of each town and city. Many of those loyal to Rome pleaded for help, but received none as the generals were too busy competing with their rivals for the position of emperor, and could not be bothered with a frontier town under siege, or a roman garrison on the verge of collapse, they had more important matters to attend to.

At the center of all this, was a man. This man, named after the famous Caesar who conquered the barbarous lands of Gaul, and the nephew who succeeded where his predecessor had failed, was the son of a roman general serving under one of the factions fighting for control of the empire. From birth he was schooled in warfare and strategy, learning the ins and outs of combat, the proper ways to besiege a fort or a city, and how to get soldiers to become loyal to you, to the point of sacrificing themselves if it meant his safety. He also had hands on experience in fighting, as his father was routinely sent out to deal with raving bands of runaway gladiators, who were more skilled in combat than the garrison soldiers stationed in towns and cities, and grew into a deadly warrior.

This man disliked the infighting of the Romans, disliked the petty reasons as to why each faction wanted to gain control. In the company of his father, he met all of the generals who were fighting for control. He knew many of them before the death of the emperor, when they were loyal Romans, who wanted the empire to grow and dominate the world, who would give their lives if it meant the safety of Rome. But now, since the emperor died, poisoned, their true nature came forth, conniving, greedy, unconcerned with the wellbeing of the empire so long as it was theirs for the taking. It didn't matter if the empire was in ruins once they took it, so long as it belongs to them.

This man, we shall call him Caesar Augustus since it is his name, was currently watching a gladiator match between two well known gladiators. A Hoplomachi and a Thraces were in the arena, fighting with a ferocity only seen in the barbarian warriors that Rome had conquered so long ago. The Hoplomachi was based on the Greek hoplite, with padded shin guards and quilted leg wrappings, with a large hoplon shield and a spear with a gryphon styled helmet, they were formidable fighters. The Thraces wore a broad rimmed helmet, carried a square shield, and gripped a sica, a gladiator's version of the gladius. The Hoplomachi thrust his spear towards his opponent, the spear punching through the shield, rendering it useless. The Thraces growled and twisted the shield, pulling the spear out of the Hoplomachi's grip, and tossed them both to the side, holding his sword out to the side in plain view of the Greek styled warrior.

This gladiator match may seem like any other match to the normal audience member, but Caesar was watching it differently. Earlier today his father had asked him a question that perplexed him.

 **##############################################################################**

"Caesar, come here for a moment. I have a question for you" his father said with a strong voice befitting of a twenty year old man instead of a sixty year old.

He looked up from his ledger he was writing in, cataloguing the amount of grain their plantation was producing, and moved from his room in their shared villa to the main room, where his father sat at a desk, apparently pondering over something written on the scroll he held in his hands, with a bronze chalice of wine at his side, with a slave carrying a pitcher of the sweet substance.

"Yes father? What seems to be the question?" he asked.

"During our time together in the field, have you made a choice as to which strategy you would pursue?" his father asked, turned towards him with a questioning gaze.

At first, this question befuddled him, as he could not recall any particular instance as to his father asking him that question. He stood there for a few moments, his face scrunched in the effort to recall any memory that could be related to the question. Suddenly, his eyes lit up in remembrance, making his father chuckle at his son's expression.

"Yes, during the attack on a gladiator camp a few years ago. You asked me if it was wise to pursue a strategy of offense or defense when confronting a foe" Caesar said, making his father nod.

"Indeed, and have you decided?".

This question made the son's face twist in discomfort, making his father look at him with an incredulous look.

"You have still not decided? I have given you ample time to ponder such a question, and still you have no answer?" the father asked, with Caesar shaking his head.

"I am sorry father, forgive me. I cannot choose between the two. If I choose offense, I become susceptible to defensive strategies, while if I choose defense, I will go nowhere" Caesar said, his eyes downcast to the tiled floor in shame.

"There is nothing to forgive my son, as I intended for such a question to be difficult. However, in this world, offense or defense is key to winning battles, and winning long campaigns. There is a particular match at the Coliseum that I want you to go see, it may help you in deciding your choice" his father said, taking a gulp from his chalice and beckoning the slave to refill it.

 **##############################################################################**

The Hoplomachi dodged a swipe from the Thraces, moving ever so slowly towards his spear, while keeping his shield faced towards his opponent. Seeing the Hoplomachi backing up, taking it as a sign of weakness, the Thraces roared a battle cry and charged the Hoplomachi, hacking away at his opponent's shield with his sword. Under the onslaught of the Thracian, the Hoplomachi kept his shield up, never tiring, never wavering, a solid wall against the whirlwind that was his opponent. He looked back towards his spear, and seeing it was close enough to grab, made the Hoplomachi spring into action. He used his shield to stun his opponent, knocking him to the sandy turf, and leapt for his spear, standing upright with his spear in hand, hiding his body behind his large shield.

Caesar saw the usage of tactics in those actions, how he was being defensive, weathering the storm that was the Thraces until finding an opportunity to strike, becoming offensive and striking with speed and ferocity. The Thracian warrior was offense only, always on the attack, never letting his opponent rest for a minute, but that could backfire if used too much.

As he watched on, the Thraces slowly picked himself up, gripping his stomach, staring at the Hoplomachi with pure hate. The Thracian warrior screamed with rage and sprinted towards his opponent, sword raised high into the air. The Greek warrior hunkered down in preparation for the savage blows, gripping his spear in anticipation. The Thraces rained down strikes with the force of thunderbolts, the harsh clang of steel ringing throughout the arena. As the Thraces rained down blow after blow on his opponent's shield, Caesar noted that the Greek didn't move an inch, he was still hunkered down in the same position as before, never wavering. As the Thracian warrior began to tire, his blows loosing strength and speed, with the time in between blows increasing by the minute, the Hoplomachi suddenly thrust out his shield, knocking away the Thracian's sword, and moving in to finish him off, kicked his opponent to the ground.

Before the final blow was struck, with the spear point directly over the Thracian's neck, he looked towards the 'emperor' for the final decision.

Caesar looked at the self proclaimed Emperor of Rome in the royal box with derision. This general accompanied his father during the campaigns in Hispania, where they subjugated the rest of the tribes who wouldn't submit to Roman rule. He now controls the Italian peninsula and most of Gaul, all bowing to 'Emperor Vitellius'. Vitellius, in his elaborate white toga with a golden wreath upon his brow, rose from his gilded golden throne in the emperor's box and looked from left to right, gauging the plebian's reactions. The crowd wanted blood, wanted death, and who was he to deny the people what they want. As he returned his gaze to the two gladiators on the Coliseum floor, he thrust his fist out, thumb raised, then slowly turned his fist, pointing his thumb downwards, much to the delight of the crowd.

The Hoplomachi turned back towards his opponent, and thrust his spear into the Thracian's neck, blood spurting onto the dust covered arena floor. As he pulled out his weapon and walked towards the gate of life victorious, Caesar realized the purpose of this visit to the Coliseum.

He walked with the crowd exiting the Coliseum, and made his way to his chariot. As he was about to reach his chariot, a hand on his shoulder stopped him, its grip firm and familiar.

"Caesar, my old friend, where have you been? It's been ages since we last saw one another" a voice said, its familiar rough tone bringing back old memories.

Caesar turned, and was greeted by an old friend. The man stood around five foot six, was pale as winter snow, and sported a couple of scars, testament to his skill in battle. He wore robes that befit someone of a senatorial class, with three golden rings on his right hand, sporting a mop of unruly red hair.

"Petros, my old friend! It has been ages" Caesar said, clasping his friend's forearm in greeting.

The man, Petros, smiled and chuckled.

"Ah Caesar, I remember you when you were but a wee lad, barely reached your father's waist if I recall. How's the general been, I haven't seen him since his campaign in Gaul to quell that rebellion a while back" Petros said.

"He's fine, still gives me lessons on strategy and tactics every now and then, to make sure I don't forget what I've learned. He's on the plantation mostly, makes sure everything is in tip top shape, can't stand not having anything work at peak efficiency" he said in an exasperated tone, making the red haired man laugh.

"He's still like that? Oh Jupiter, I remember him being worse when we were out in the field on campaign, "Make sure that the fence post is in the exact position, don't let it lean even two degrees any which way", I got plenty of lashings from the centurion for messing up that way. If it works, it works, that's what I say" Petros said with fondness.

"Hey, mind walking with me to the slave auctions?" Petros said after a moment's pause.

He didn't have anything planned later today, the public baths were full at the moment so he would go later, and training with his father's former centurions wasn't until midday.

"Sure, I heard there was a new shipment from the frontiers. I bet they have some gigantic Germans" Caesar said, already thinking of what type of slave that would be useful on the plantation.

"No lad, I heard that it was a shipment from Greece. Those Greeks are great thinkers, and their women are very good looking" Petros said, staring with a faraway look into his eyes.

"Petros you pervert" he said jokingly.

"Hey, I'm speaking the truth here, don't blame me for that".

They took Caesar's chariot from the Coliseum towards the trade district, a wide expanse of multiple market stalls selling wares of all kinds. As they were going past a particular stall, Caesar saw next to the stall a large camel, laying on a nest of hay chewing cud, making the oddest of noises. Next to that stall was a large structure filled with horses of all breeds. There was a dark chestnut horse, from the Gallic frontier if he could guess, and next to that horse was a beautiful palomino, probably from Anatolia.

"I see you eying those horses, not satisfied with your Exmoor? Your father's friend had captured that horse when he governed the province of Britannia, very good breed of horse. You can't get that breed of horse anymore, since the Britons overran the Roman garrison there and took the island for themselves" Petros said.

"N-no of course not. I love that horse to death. It's just..." Caesar said, with a somber tone.

Petros looked from the street that they were traveling on towards his longtime friend. Now when he got like this, it was usually something that hit him hard, and he would have a hard time talking about it, he's seen this pattern all the way from when Caesar was a lad.

"Something on your mind lad?" he said, knowing a little prodding would make him open up.

"It's just, Neleus is dying, and father said that I should look for a new horse, since he's so old" he said.

"I know you had that horse since your teens, and it is hard to let something that you love go lad, I know. But we all eventually die, and sometimes, it just happens, and you just have to move on" Petros said.

He's had to give this line numerous times before, it's become almost routine. The lad was a bit too soft with animals that he owned, particularly those whom he spent time with, like his horses and dogs. But, every time that he's delivered this little bit, he's seen the young man harden just a bit, growing more and more callous to the world. However, that doesn't mean that he is uncaring, that he is a stone cold soldier who's only joy is fighting. No, he still finds time to enjoy the little things in life.

After a bit of introspection, Caesar looked towards his friend with a smile on his face, a grateful smile, and nodded in thanks. Petros nodded in return, a simple nod could convey so much more than words can, that they mostly use it instead of meaningless drivel.

As their conversation ended, their chariot neared a wide open space, filled to the brim with people. At the center of this throng of people stood a raised platform, with about five or six slaves in a line, with chained wrists and feet, being gestured at by a hefty man in a baggy toga, pointing towards certain people and gesturing towards a specific slave on the platform. Caesar looked to the back of the platform to see a small group of slaves. From their height and size, to their golden hair and blue eyes, he assumes they are of German decent, with a small portion of the slaves being of Numidian decent, with their dark skin and lithe builds.

"Looks like they already started the auctions, probably missed some good slaves" Caesar said with Petros nodding in agreement.

After they've parked Caesar's chariot, they moved into the crowds, the air humid and thick from the sheer amount of people in attendance. When they made it to the front of the crowd, standing near the slave auction platform, the slaves he saw on it before were gone, and were being replaced by the group of Germans and Numidians he saw earlier, the guards pushing the German slaves onto the platform when some wouldn't comply.

"How many are you looking to buy Caesar, I only have about two hundred denarii to spend, which would barely afford a slave or two, and I need a new slave to manage the stallions on my estate" Petros said, eyeing the slaves.

"After our Gallic slave died a few months ago, our plantation is not doing as well as it should, so I'm looking for a hard worker, and the Numidians are good at taking care of horses. Therefore, I think I am going to get a German if possible. If not, I will wait to see what others they have. Don't worry about me affording to pay for it, I have a vineyard in Neapolis, and it's pretty successful, letting me pocket a tidy profit of nine hundred denarii a season" Caesar said, smirking at the incredulous sound coming from his long time friend.

"Nine hundred denarii?! Oh Jupiter, if I'd known that you make that much, I'd have asked you for money sooner!" Petros said jokingly, returning his attention to the slaves on the platform.

The slaves were lined up, sorted based on their base value and the speculated value after the initial sorting was completed. Three Germans were lined up on the left, with two Numidians in the middle, with another two Germans on the end. The Germans on the left were large, beefy men, with massive muscles and strong postures, scars decorated their chest and face, which they wore with pride, a sign that they were former warriors. If he was a betting man, and he was from time to time, he would bet that those three were destined for the gladiator arena, to entertain the crowd with their shows of struggle and death.

Next were the two Numidians. They were of average height, with toned muscles and lithe physics, traits of those who lived in the saddle. Their skin was near flawless, with a few blemishes here and there, and their hair was cropped short, making them nearly bald. Their passive demeanor and lack of pride suggests that they were used to this treatment, and were former slaves themselves, judging by scar marks around their necks, a sign of former enslavement. The Numidians were bad news for a potential buyer, as they had escaped before, making them rebellious.

The final group of Germans piqued his interest. They were of average height for a German, which towered above any Roman, had the physic of a warrior, but held no scars, and kept their eyes glued to the wooden floor of the platform, a sign of timidity. This made for a good, obedient slave if one were to apply the proper measures to train them. If allowed the room for their pride to build, they will eventually rebel, seeing as their masters aren't as terrifying as they first thought. Caesar also took note of their hands, which were calloused in certain areas. This meant that they were farmers, men who plowed fields and raised livestock, who met his criteria for a good plantation slave.

"The two Germans on the end are perfect, I shall buy them" Caesar said, raising his hand when the slave auctioneer gestured to the two.

 **##############################################################################**

As Caesar neared the edge of the city, he stopped by a small, but homely villa in the outermost edges of the city to drop off Petros, who gestured for his servants to take the new slave to their quarters.

"Make sure that he knows his role by morning, I have important guests visiting tomorrow and I don't want an ignorant slave ruining my reputation!" he shouted to the retreating forms of his slaves.

"Who's visiting you Petros, I'd have thought you would have withdrew from politics by now" Caesar said from his chariot.

"Well, I think I'm getting better at being a politician, it's still ten time harder than being a legionnaire, but I think I got the hang of it. And it's no one important, just some senators of the lower class who offered their support to put me in the senate. Anyways, I guess I'll see you tomorrow? I want you to try out this new wine I imported from Anatolia yesterday" he said.

"I might Petros, but I think I might be too busy on the plantation to stop by tomorrow though" Caesar said with dejection.

Petros waved it off with a chuckle.

"No, I understand lad. Not everyone lives the life of leisure and stress of a politician. I wish you well Caesar, may you live long and prosper" he said.

"I wish the same fortune to befall you old friend, until we meet again" Caesar said with a wave as his chariot left the villa, with Petros waving at him in the distance.

As his chariot left the stone streets of Rome, and passed onto the dirt roads of the country side, he looked back towards his purchase, and hoped that his father would be pleased with his gift to the plantation. But, when he turned his gaze back towards the dusty road, an ominous feeling gripped his soul, as if the gods were warning him of a horrible event. With increasing trepidation, he ordered his chariot to move towards the plantation with all haste, the chariot kicking up clumps of dirt as it raced past.

As he neared his father's plantation, dread filled him when he saw the billows of dark smoke curling into the sky. Once the chariot stopped he jumped out and raced to the plantation, hoping and praying to all the gods in the heavens that his father was alright. But, once he saw the burning husk that was his father's villa, he feared the worst. He raced to the blackened walls that was his home, and searched the wreckage for his father, hissing when he touched a hot piece of wood, which seared his hands.

"Father, where are you!? FATHER" he shouted, his plea receiving no response much to his dismay.

Suddenly, the clopping of hooves drew his attention to the fields, where the tools that the slaves use lay scattered all across the ground. Racing towards the villa was a rider, garbed in the armor that would rank the person as an auxiliary cavalryman. Relief flooded his system, and he made to wave towards his supposed helper, but stopped cold once he saw the colors underneath the armor. The soldier wore a blood red tunic, the symbol of Vespasian, another general pretender hoping to gain the throne of emperor. The rider rode up to the fields surveying the surrounding landscape, until his eyes landed upon Caesar. With a shout, and a sharp look in his eyes, the soldier spurred his horse into a gallop, leveling his spear to his chest.

Caesar leaped to the side as the rider sped past, the soldier turning his horse around for another pass. He was terrified, confused, and grief ridden, and couldn't come up with an answer as to why the rider is trying to kill him, then it hit him. Vitellius declared war on Vespasian not two moons past. The populace, even his father a wise military general, figured that the fighting would remain in Illyria and Greece, that it wouldn't even come close to the heartland. Sadly, that didn't seem to be the case, as Caesar was currently trying to stay alive as a soldier of Vespasian tried to kill him.

As the rider spurred his horse towards his target, Caesar slowly began to calm and remember the fighting tactics his father had taught him as a child. He grabbed a scythe that lay by the wayside, and made to counter his opponent. When the rider thrust his spear towards Caesar, he ducked under the stab and swept the horse's legs out from under it, sending it and its rider tumbling to the ground. He rushed the downed rider, ignoring the horse and grappling with the soldier, getting the cavalryman into a chokehold, slowly strangling the life out of the man.

"What happened here, what did you do to my father?"he asked in a furious tone.

The soldier began to chuckle, the action hampered by the arms around his neck.

"Oh, that traitor? We gave him what he deserved, a traitor's death" he said cackling to himself.

"If it's any consolation to you, your father took down three of our own before he fell, the body burned nicely".

With those words, his vision narrowed to the point to where he could only see the soldier being strangled in his arms. Caesar slowly started to turn the soldier's head to the side. The cavalryman, realizing what he was about to do, thrashed with renewed vigor, twisting his body in an attempt to get free. But, his efforts were in vain, as Caesar quickly turned the soldier's head to the side, his face impassive to the crackling and snapping of bones.

With the death of Vespasian's soldier, Caesar finally got back to finding any remains of their family possessions. With the burned skeletal walls of their villa, it seemed that not much survived the fire, with scorched metal plates and cups, warped silverware littered the area where the kitchen was. It seems that Vespasian's forces took what valuables they could, and burned the rest, taking the slaves on the plantation. With nothing left for him here, Caesar returned to his chariot and directed it back to Rome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Ally**

Caesar sighed as he stood next to his chariot driver as they moved down the dirt road, mulling over the events of the day. His father was dead, the auxiliary confirmed it, and he didn't know what to do. His father was the constant source of advice that helped him with his problems, and an anchor to the world after his mother was killed by bandits. Even though he was a capable commander of men himself, winning a number of battles against gladiators and rebels of various provinces, his father was a master of the art of war, winning any battle he was in regardless of the odds. As he is remembering anything and everything about his beloved father, he soon comes upon an interesting memory. He remembers his father taking him down the dirt road a ways, going to an abandoned villa off to the side of the road. He wasn't sure as to why he remembers this specific house, or the importance of this memory, but he has a feeling that going to the villa would be beneficial to him.

"There! Driver pull the chariot to the side, and secure the slaves" Caesar said quickly, jumping from the chariot before it even stopped.

Caesar rushed to the villa, the weeds and vines covering the cracked tiled floor. He moved throughout the building, checking each room for a sign of something, something that would indicate anything of importance. But with each room checked, his hope diminished, until finally he made to leave the structure, until something caught his eye, a metallic glint underneath a cracked tile. He pulled away the ruined tile to reveal a wooden trapdoor, the oak planks looked as if they would turn to dust at any moment. He carefully pulled back the trapdoor, to find not a wooden ladder as one might think, but a shallow pit filled to the brim with denarii, gold, and underneath the blanket of coins, lay a set of legionnaire segmentata armor, with a praetorian helm with a red plume, the cheek guards were a bit rusted but that could be fixed. As he was lifting the set of armor, something slipped out of the laminar chest plate, making a large clanging sound as it hit the tiled floor. When he looked at what made the noise, he saw that it was a gladius, which looked well maintained despite the passage of time.

As he donned the armor, tying the helmet straps underneath his chin, he grabbed the gladius and put the blade into its sheath which he discovered was stuck in the chest plate, and had his slaves put the massive amount of gold and silver coins into an old chest he had found in one of the rooms in the villa, and got onto the chariot once more, ordering his driver to make for Rome. As the chariot moved onto the road, Caesar saw in the distance a large cloud of dust. He figured it was a trade caravan leaving Rome, filled with chests of goods and gold. However, as the dust cloud grew closer, he saw that it wasn't a procession of wagons pulled by beasts of burden, with conversations of trade, but a group of legionnaires led by a centurion on horseback, bearing no standard or flag to distinguish themselves.

This concerned Caesar, as soldiers without a standard or flag could be deserters, which were more dangerous than barbarians because of their training and weaponry. As they drew closer, the centurion spotted the chariot and ordered his soldiers to surround it, confirming Caesar's fear. He ordered his driver to stop the chariot, as they couldn't outrun them with the chariot laden with slaves and gold, and prepared to face the leader of these deserters. The legionnaires surrounded the chariot, their mail armor glinting in the sunlight, their large shields concealing the gladii gripped in their hands, and awaited their commander's orders.

Caesar turned from the soldiers surrounding him to the centurion, taking in his appearance. He was of Roman decent, with his slightly tanned skin and dark, neatly trimmed hair giving away his ancestry. He wore the segmented plate armor that was the staple of a veteran legionary, with a oval shield with an iron boss in the middle, with a spatha strapped to his side, wearing greek styled grieves, leather gloves covering his hands.

"Well, look what we have here men, a noble all by his lonesome, with gold and slaves no less" the leader of the deserters said, his men chuckling darkly to the statement.

"I ask of you, why have you stopped me? Surely it is not because of my dashing looks" Caesar said, already knowing the reason but wanting to hear it from the centurion.

The deserter leader snickered at this, his smile turning crooked once he saw the chests of gold and silver.

"No my good man, it is not your good looks which I am sure had stolen many a maiden's heart, but it is your wealth that has conceived this meeting. I ask this of you. Hand over a sum of gold and silver, and you may leave with your life and possessions intact" the centurion said.

"While I am moved to accept your offer, I have proposal that might sway you. While I am sure of your combat prowess, of your ability to hold your own, have you missed being able to venture into a town or city without being regarded with fear and hatred? Have you missed having a steady, fair pay, to not worry if you would be paid or not? Have you missed having food in your belly and drink to quench you thirst?" he asked, his words reaching the ears of a good number of the men surrounding him.

The centurion looked from his left to his right, seeing the longing looks in his men's eyes. He had to admit, he missed being able to walk amongst the populace without causing fear or panic. He missed being able to rely on his commander to pay him regularly, missed not having to worry about not getting enough food to feed himself and his men. He knew what the noble was doing, what his ultimate goal was, but he couldn't help but be swayed by this charismatic, persuasive noble. After his general docked their pay, proclaiming that his legion was cowardly, that they weren't worthy of pay, he took those loyal to him, a good number of supplies and a horse, and fled from the legion, watching its destruction by gallic rebels a few days later. He returned his attention to the noble, who was watching him with knowing eyes.

"I offer you this. Join me, and you will no longer be hunted like feral beasts. You will be able to walk into cities and towns without being chased out by the populace. You will be paid regularly, have food to fill your bellies and drink to quench your thirst. You will see glory in battle. You will have women to please you after battle if you so desire. All of this is yours, if you join me" Caesar said.

The legionnaires muttered and discussed amongst themselves, whispers permeating the area. After a minute or two, the legionnaires turned towards their centurion, who appeared to be contemplating this offer as much as his men were. The centurion knew that if they joined this noble, they could finally rid themselves of their notoriety that had swept through the upper portion of Italy. Despite the freedom of commanding men he had enjoyed during the months of their desertion, it was becoming painfully aware that they would have to take more violent action if they were to feed themselves. With his decision made, he looked towards his men and slightly nodded, gaining a number of smiles from the legionnaires.

"Very well noble, we accept your offer. Consider us your loyal soldiers" the centurion said, the cheers of his men following the statement.

The legionnaires, about 20 men in total, were ordered into marching formation by the centurion and at Caesar's signal, began to march towards Rome, trailing behind the chariot. The centurion moved his horse next to the chariot and got a look at the noble he was serving. He was tall for a Roman, he could've been mistaken for a celt with his fiery red hair and goatee. The noble wore armor that suggested that he was a former soldier or general, more likely the latter with the charismatic attitude and the praetorian helmet with a red plume that adorned his head.

"If I may be so bold, what might be your name? Since we will be working together for the foreseeable future it would be beneficial for me to know your name, so I don't call you centurion each time I address you" Caesar asked, getting a glance from the centurion in question.

"The name's Valgo, Publius Trianius Valgo at your service Imperator" the centurion said after a moment's pause.

"Caesar, Caesar Augustus at yours" Caesar responded.

With the introductions out of the way, the two men fell into a comfortable silence as they traveled through the countryside towards Rome, with the occasional mutterings and conversations amongst the legionnaires breaking the silence. After a few hours of marching in the February sun, Caesar saw in the distance the walls of Rome. As they came closer to the city walls, he ordered Valgo and the legionnaires to make camp outside the walls and to await his return as he had some business to attend to inside the city.

Once this was done he ordered his chariot driver to head for the markets. As they moved along the cobblestone streets of Rome, Caesar heard snippets of conversations that piqued his interest.

The governors of the gallic provinces came into the city a few days earlier, with their togas torn and ripped, numerous cuts on their bodies, proclaiming that the Gauls had risen up in rebellion, killing the roman garrisons in Ademantunum and Segodunum, putting their heads on pikes at the city gates. Massalia, the ancient greek city was now the last bastion of roman influence in Gaul, and it was suffering under the governor, the man giving the city's wealth away in treaties with the Gauls, robbing the citizens in all but name.

'If I could raise a large enough army, we could have the city for ourselves, or maybe I can convince the populace to support me instead of the governor, the possibilities are endless!' Caesar thought with growing excitement.

Keeping that tidbit of information tucked away for later, he returned his attention to the market which was sparsely populated at the moment, but he knew that the farmers would be here any moment to deliver their goods and a swarm of people would follow them. He stopped his chariot near a food stall and bought loaves of bread and stacks of dried meat, with two barrels of wine to complete the purchase, which cost him about thirteen hundred denarii. He paid the required amount and had his slaves load the food stuffs into crates, and then had them move the crates onto the chariot.

As he was preparing to leave the city, he took a glance towards the platform that held slave auctions. There was a small crowd, mainly plantation owners and the lucky farmer here and there that was wealthy enough. On the platform itself was a small group of slaves, mainly Germans and Iberians, but two stood out to him. One was of Thracian decent, judging from his tall stature, reaching the German's shoulders and his rust colored hair, with various tattoos. He briefly considered purchasing him but decided against it as he already had two Germans to do any heavy lifting he might need done. Next to the Thracian stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, her beauty rivaling that of Venus herself.

She was a greek, from her light wheat colored hair to her fair skin complexion. She wore a milk white chiton which was stained in a few areas by what appeared to be mud and dirt, and appears to have been cut short by the way she was holding down the frayed, jagged lower half of the chiton, desperately trying to cover herself from prying eyes. Her heart shaped face was free of blemishes, scrunched into a look of discomfort, a rose colored blush conveying her embarrassment to the crowd who looked upon her with hungry eyes. The ocean blue orbs that were her eyes were darting from person to person with increasing dread from what he could make of her expression when the auctioneer gestured to a noble or a wealthy farmer who was interested in buying. Her wrists were lightly scabbed in a few spots from the shackles rubbing against her, marring her perfect skin. She was slightly curvy. Her hips flared out, and her breasts were modestly sized, the nipples straining against the chiton, creating a near hourglass figure. Her thighs made his blood run hot, the smoothness of her skin and the milk white skin tone made him nearly loose his train of thought.

When Caesar eventually took his gaze from her beauty, he saw the auctioneer gesturing towards a particularly plump man, his tunic failing to cover his rotund belly, the toga covering what skin would have been showing, he thanked the gods for that. He noted with increasing trepidation that the man was smirking and talking to the auctioneer, with the auctioneer gesturing towards the young woman. A smile slowly grew on Caesar's face. He knew that the large man could outbid anybody near the slave platform, he could tell from the types of robes that he wore. They were expensive robes that came from the eastern provinces when the empire was united, now priceless with the civil war. If he could afford those types of robes, he didn't doubt that the man had some serious coinage, and would leave anyone who tried to outbid him in the dust. But, he had a feeling that his current amount of coinage could blow the noble out of the water without trying.

"Driver, take the supplies and the slaves to the camp, I'll be there in a few short moments. I just need to make an unexpected visit to the slave market. I'll be taking a chest of silver, don't expect me to have it when I return" Caesar said to the chariot driver, who nodded and went off to complete the orders he was given.

As he got closer to the slave auction platform, he could here bits and pieces of the conversation between the plump noble and the auctioneer, and what he heard ensured that his chances that he could outbid the noble. He looked down at his chest full of silver denarii, making a tinkling noise as the coins moved against each other. He would crush this noble's chances and rub it in his face.

"So that will be 600 denarii for the greek slave, any more bids?" the auctioneer said in a loud voice so that all in attendance could here.

The noble, with a smug, greasy smile, looked to his left and right, his smile widening when he saw no one raising their hand. Caesar stood just behind the noble, who had his full attention focused on the auctioneer, periodically glancing to what he perceived as his prize, who stared at the sleazy noble with a mixture of fear and disgust. Caesar frowned at her expression. He didn't like her looking like that, an unknown urge to make her smile arose from somewhere, but he squashed it as soon as he felt it gaining a foothold into his thoughts. He couldn't let passion control his thoughts, he had to be precise, clearheaded in order for his plans to work.

"No more bets? Going Once...Going Twice...Sol-"

"700 denarii for the greek" Caesar called out, internally laughing at the look of rage and hate that was being directed towards him by the fat noble.

"800 denarii" the noble said, his smug smirk returning as he crossed his arms.

"1000 denarii" Caesar said, a smirk appearing at the incredulous look on the noble's face.

"12-1200 denarii!" the noble shouted in desperation, small beads of sweat dripping down his double chin.

"1600 denarii"

A small noise of astonishment and despair escaped the noble at this admission, Caesar seeing his hopes shatter to pieces like broken glass. He turned his gaze back to the greek, who was looking at him with curiosity and apprehension, both of which he could understand given the current circumstances. He returned his attention back to the noble and gave him a look of challenge, daring him to raise the bid any higher. Thankfully for both parties, the noble conceded, waddling to another section of the market, leaving Caesar to claim his prize.

"Going Once, Going Twice, Sold for 1600 denarii!" the auctioneer shouted, unchaining the greek slave from the platform and leading her to Caesar.

As the greek slave was brought to him, the auctioneer handing the chain to him, his focus was on her expression. The most discernible emotions he could make out was caution, wariness, and an underlying curiosity. Her lips, now that he was closer, were natural and luscious, practically begging to be kissed, to be ravaged. He refrained from doing so, as he had some modicum of honor and decency. He was brought out of his brief study of the beautiful woman before him by the auctioneer, who was holding out an expectant hand. He nodded towards the auctioneer, opened the chest, and grabbed a handful of denarii, not really counting nor caring as he dumped the handful into the man's hands, who left with a wide smile on his face.

As soon as the man went back onto the auction platform Caesar turned to leave, leading his newly acquired slave through the sparsely crowded markets. While moving past stall after stall, and brushing past the occasional passerby, Caesar could feel her stare piercing the back of his head. As he turned to look back at her, her eyes widened slightly in alarm and darted towards the cobblestone.

Glancing back at her, he realized how short this woman was, barely reaching his chest, which added to her beauty. Many men of noble stature preferred the prude, dark haired, tall, high maintenance women found in the Italian peninsula, something about nobles only marrying roman women to preserve the bloodline, but that mattered little to him. High class women were wastes of coin and time, and he had little of either to use of frivolous ventures such as courting a high born. Plus, roman women were beginning to bore him. They were all the same, with little to no variation between each woman. A greek however, was new to him. A mystery he intends to unravel.

After the trip down memory lane, Caesar looked around and saw that they had neared the city gates, the garrison soldiers manning the gates and walls. He sighed in relief, they had beat the wagons of farmers and traders. And not a moment too soon, for as they stepped outside the city a large column of wagons came racing towards the city, mainly farmers with the occasional wealthy trader, a small army of people following the caravan to the market.

"If you have any questions ask them now, as I will not be answering them anytime after this. Since I have purchased you, you are to be my slave, serving me in any way I see fit" he said turning to the greek, who stared at him with an apathetic, yet sad expression.

Caesar stopped speaking and stared at her, waiting to see if she had anything to say. Hearing nothing, he moved to continue towards the camp, but stopped when he heard her voice. It was a low murmur, barely reaching his ears, but that sound made him give her his full attention.

"If-if I am to serve you, may I know your name?" she asked softly, her voice soft and smooth as silk.

"If you must know, my name is Caesar Augustus. Now if you have no more questions I suggest we head to my camp, its best to not stay out here too long alone, bandits might kill me and steal you away, and believe me they will demand more than I ever will of you" Caesar said, turning towards the camp, leading the greek along like a shepherd with a lone sheep back towards his flock.

When they had reached camp, Caesar was pleased to see the camp completely set up, wooden palisades guarding the tents, a shallow ditch filled with wooden stakes surrounded the camp with a single bridge that led into the camp being the only entrance and exit. There were about six legionnaires on sentry duty, two guarding the entrance, the four others patrolling the palisade, watching over the wooden wall.

As they came closer to the camp site, the sun lowering by the minute, the sentries at the entrance saw him and sent runners to spread the word that he has returned. The legionnaires saluted as he passed them on the way to his tent, with Caesar nodding their way. He saw that Valgo was waiting outside his tent, smiling slightly when he saw Caesar, but quickly sent him a questioning look once he saw the slave accompanying him. He gave Valgo a 'tell you later' look to answer his unspoken question.

"I see that whatever business you had in Rome is finished. The men appreciate the extra food and drink you provided, I as well am thankful for you upholding one of your promises" Valgo said with a hidden undertone of relief.

"I am a man of my word, that is a certainty. Come, let us enjoy a fresh cup of wine inside my tent, we have much to discuss" Caesar said, leading Valgo and the slave inside his tent.

It was a fairly large tent, with his banner hanging from a long pole right next to the tent, a green wreath surrounding a golden eagle with its wings spread wide and proud. The tent on the inside was roomy, with furs covering the dirt floor. It was sparsely filled with furniture, only having a large table with a couple of chairs, a few feet away sat a brazier with flames dancing on the surface of the oil, providing light to illuminate the space. Next to the brazier stood a small wooden table, with small bowls of fruit and meat, with bronze chalices next to a ceramic amphora, the sweet smell of wine wafting towards the group.

"Fetch us some wine to sooth our throats, for we have much planning and little time to waste" Caesar said as he unlocked the chains and shackles around the feet and wrists of the slave, who after hesitating for a moment, went to carry out his commands, pouring wine into the bronze cups.

"I've been meaning to ask you Caesar, why did you buy her? I mean I understand the physical appeal, but other than that I see no reason in purchasing her" Valgo said quietly, keeping his voice just out of earshot of the slave.

"I honestly don't know myself. I saw her at the slave auctions and was struck by her beauty, then I saw who was bidding for her, a fat noble, and said to myself 'I must have her', and the result of that choice is currently pouring us wine" he responded.

Valgo could understand where he was coming from, he himself was an impulsive buyer before he joined the legion. However, he was concerned that if this noble were to impulsively buy things that the men don't need, Caesar would drain his funds till there was nothing left, and the men wouldn't get paid, losing faith in their leader.

"I don't object to you buying her, she could be useful, but I am just worried that you might spend all of your money on something frivolous and have nothing to pay the men with. So I ask this of you, think of your men next time when you are in the markets" Valgo said.

Caesar nodded, he understood where Valgo was coming from. His father had warned him of running out of money while soldiers were under his command. It was important to keep the army loyal to you, and to pay them regularly, to ward off potential usurpers and upstart officers who might have ambitions of their own. That fact has caused the downfall of so many commanders, he vowed to himself that he would never see their fate. But the fact that the centurion was bold enough to lecture him on how to use his coin unsettled him. He was going to nip this in the bud before it grew to more rebellious acts.

"I will take your words into consideration the next time I visit the market, but do not lecture me on how to spend my coin as if I were a irresponsible child. You are a military man, not a financial advisor. You are to behave as such, and you are to advise me on military matters if you feel the need to do so. The financial matters I will take care of. Understood?" he asked with an unspoken threat. The centurion nodded, a bit cowed by the sudden shift in tone.

"Now that we have that matter settled, I have some important news. Word in Rome is that the gallic provinces are in revolt, and all the settlements have fallen to gallic hands, Massalia being the last remaining Roman city. The governor of the city supposedly strips the people of their wealth to give to the Gauls in exchange for peace. This has caused the people in the city to become rebellious. Now I propose that we make for the city, gathering recruits along the way, and we either convince the garrison to hand over the city, or we take it by force if no other option is available" Caesar said excitedly, taking the chalice handed to him by the slave and drinking its contents, smacking his lips at the refreshing taste.

While Caesar enjoyed his chalice of wine, Valgo was pondering over the information. If the men were paid regularly, and if no new recruits were added to their ranks in the foreseeable future, Caesar would be able to pay them for about a month presuming that no raiding of enemy settlements would happen. Their food supply should last them the trip from Rome to Massalia, but after that Caesar would either have to go into the settlement and buy provisions or have the men forage for local game and foodstuffs. He made his concerns known to Caesar, who suggested that they head for the Germanic provinces up north and raid a few settlements first before heading towards Massalia. Nodding to this plan, he clasped Caesar's arm and thanked him for the talk and left the tent, presumably to head to his own tent to turn in for the night.

After Valgo had left, Caesar had moved to the table to take a bite out of a apple, humming at the tasty fruit. Once he finished off the apple, he made to remove his armor, taking off his grieves and helmet, unstrapping his sword and laying it next to his helmet. The laminar plate chest piece remained, but he had a slight problem. The armor was extremely complicated to remove. Getting it on was easy, but getting it off took some extra hands. He was on the verge of accepting the fact that he would either be sleeping in his armor or not sleeping at all when he had an idea.

"Come here and help me get this armor off" Caesar said.

The slave, who was putting the amphora on the wooden table jumped at being addressed, but quickly obeyed his commands untying the straps that held his armor to his body. A sudden thought struck him, he didn't know her name. It never occurred to him to ask her, and now he was kind of regretting not asking. As he was mulling over this little fact, the slave had reached the middle of his back, untying strap after strap. She was on the verge of asking him so many questions. Why did he buy her? What will he have her do? What will become of her after he had no more use for her? The endless barrage of questions were halted in their tracks by Caesar's sonorous voice.

"What is your name?" he asked.

Name? Of all the things he could have asked her, it was about her name. She assumed that he would ask if she were a virgin or not, or if she would undress so that he would have his way with her. When she came back from her inner thoughts, she saw that he had waited for her to answer, and she quickly made to answer, fearing punishment for making him wait.

"Selena, Selena Valli" she said, going back to untying the straps on his armor.

'Selena Valli, beautiful name for a beautiful woman' he thought, sighing in relief once he felt the last strap come undone, taking off the armor and setting it next to the table that held his sword and helmet. Stretching his muscles, he forgot that he had an audience and removed his shirt to free his movements. Said audience had a light blush on her cheeks as she stared at Caesar's back, watching the muscles tense and relax with his stretching. His back, and the rest of his body wasn't flabby as most nobles and politicians were, but was strong, well muscled and free of any fat, his skin flawless. He was a fine physical specimen, perhaps the finest she has ever seen since her enslavement. It had only been a few weeks ago she was on her way out of her parent's house because of disagreements of an arranged marriage at the tender age of 15, and then she had the luck of running into slavers. In her ignorance she trusted them to lead her to a nearby town, or at least a small village. But her trust was soon proven to be misplaced as she was sold to the local auctioneer and was led onto stage, then she was bought by this noble and she ended up in his tent.

A small flame in her stomach was lit, and the heat traveled downwards, making Selena bite her lip as she watched the cause of her fire stretch. While she hadn't seen many men outside of her father and brother, she knew that this one was one that many women in her home town would fight over, even if they were married. She subtly shifted from side to side, trying to alleviate the aching sensation in her nether regions by rubbing her thighs together. It only made the problem worse.

"While I don't mind you staring at my physique, I suggest we turn in for the night, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow" he said, moving to his sleeping quarters.

Selena snapped out of her trance at his words and looked for her own separate quarters. When she found none, she gave him a questioning look.

"If you are looking for your quarters, they're right next to mine, to make sure that you don't leave during the night, not assuming that you make it past the guards" Caesar said, pulling back a flap that separated his quarters from the main room of the tent. As she was pondering over what he said, a few words stuck out. 'Wait, next to his?!' she thought, the blush on her face worsening as her train of thought derailed at the ideas her progressively perverted mind planted into her psyche. She sighed and pushed back the tent flap and followed him, hoping that nothing would happen during the night, and at the same time hoping that something would.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Bleary eyes opened, revealing ocean blue orbs which looked around in confusion. She didn't recognize her surroundings. As she stretched and moved to a sitting position, she looked to her left and saw an empty bed, the furs messy and unmade. A few feet away from the bed was a small desk. On top of the desk was a praetorian's helmet with a red plume. Sitting next to the helmet was a gladius in its sheath, the leather strap dangling to the ground. As she took in her surroundings, a flood of memories poured into her mind, and she remembered. The movement of the tent flaps drew her attention to the entrance of the tent, and upon recognizing who had entered, quickly grabbed the furs covering her bed to cover herself.

"I could care less if you were naked slave, so no need for modesty. We are about to leave for Germania. I have no qualms with making you travel bare as the day you were birthed from your mother's womb, so I suggest you hurry. I expect you to be by my chariot by the time we are prepared to move out, whether you are dressed or not, though I wouldn't mind seeing your naked beauty beside me in the chariot." he said, grabbing his helmet and sword and taking his leave as she rapidly began to dress herself.

Caesar moved throughout the camp, aiding some of his men in the deconstruction of the walls and raised platforms that served as watchtowers. As the walls slowly were lowered and disassembled into its baser materials, Caesar noticed out of the corner of his eye that Selena had exited the tent, dressed in her white chiton, and was wandering the camp in search of his chariot, looking hopelessly lost. Caesar paid her no mind and resumed the deconstruction of the camp, taking down his own tent and packing all of the items inside it for the march ahead. After nearly the entirety of the camp was torn down, he made his way to his chariot, looking for the greek slave. He saw her standing beside the chariot, head bowed as Valgo stood next to her.

"Valgo, I assume we are nearly ready to depart?"

"Yes imperator, the men are almost ready to march. They are eager for battle, and since we are going to Germania, I think they will have their fill soon enough." Valgo said with a smirk.

Caesar chuckled. It has been awhile since he's been to the Germanic frontier, and he was itching to fight them. The Germanic peoples were a warrior people, constantly fighting amongst themselves for power and prestige before Rome came. Now they fight united against the glory of civilization, the glory of Rome itself. No commander has ever been able to tame the wild and barbarous frontier that is Germania, and it probably will never be tamed. Caesar certainly wouldn't want to, it would be more trouble than it's worth. However, he was not adverse to raiding their villages and cities for plunder and booty. The goods that come from the plundering and raiding fetched a hefty price in many roman provinces, and slaves were an even more lucrative venture, as Germans were useful for so many different tasks. While Gauls and Iberians were useful, Germans were even more so. He hopes that when they raid, they will be able to capture some Germans to sell in the markets of roman provinces. He entertained the thought of running a gladiator school, but quickly dismissed it. It was too much work and costs a lot more than the profit you could make from it.

"Once they are ready, have the men assemble in marching formation behind the chariot." he ordered.

Valgo saluted and went to complete his task. Caesar looked at Selena, the slave still had her head bowed. She seemed to be in deep thought, enough so not to notice him sneak up behind her. His hand sneaked to tap her on the shoulder, intending on getting her attention, when he suddenly stopped. Caesar wasn't sure if he smelt what he did, so he sniffed slightly and nearly heaved at the odor his nose inhaled. She smelled. He took a large step away from her without her knowing, holding his nose the entire time.

'By the gods she reeks! Next town we come to I am taking her to the public baths and thoroughly bathing her. No slave under my command will smell like a barbarian after rolling around in pig shit.' he thought, making sure he kept out of the smell's range as he got onto the chariot. She looked to get onto the chariot, but one look from Caesar stopped her in her tracks. She was not riding next to him while she smelled like the rear end of a wild boar. However, he didn't want his prized slave to become damaged by the trek, so he begrudgingly gestured for her to join him on the chariot, much to Selena's relief. She noticed that when she got onto the chariot Caesar was pinching his nose, making him sound funny when he gave the order to march.

They traveled north, passing a few villages along the way. Roving bands of runaway gladiators sometimes crossed their path, but they fled fast enough to outpace Caesar's party. They were of no concern to Caesar, as he had his eyes on a much bigger prize. As they traveled farther and farther north, Caesar began to note the slight shift in temperature as the party moved along. Caesar watched the countryside as they traveled, lost in thought, not really looking but watching at the same time. He was forced to breathe through his mouth, lest he smell the horrid stench that his beautiful slave carried. They had stopped by a few villages along the way, gathering eight new recruits under his banner. He would need them for the raiding later.

The party came to the city of Medhlan, where Caesar literally dragged Selena through the streets to the public baths and, once they reached it, began scrubbing her down from head to toe, thoroughly washing her hair and lathering her in fine smelling oils.

'Her skin is smooth, like marble, and her hair, once washed, feels like silk. I have truly been blessed by the gods themselves to have acquired a slave such as herself.' Caesar thought as his hands ran over her skin, coating her in one of his favorite oils.

His slave was worth more than he had originally thought. He figured she would amount to nothing more than a servant, doing menial tasks for him while he focused on the big picture. But now, he saw much potential in her to become so much more. She was extremely beautiful, that he coudn't deny, and he could care less being seen showing affection to a slave, though that may damage his reputation with the older roman nobility in Massilia when they took the city. He had to restrain himself more than once from going too far in his minstrations as he bathed her, he could do that later once they settle down for the night. For now, he needed her clean.

Selena didn't know what to expect when they reached the city, but a bath was the last thing on her mind. She, however, didn't mind her master's menstrations on her body, although she was hesitant at first. His hands were rough, strong, and powerful. No other had touched her before Caesar, and she doubted that any other could replicate the feeling. She decided to relax in his presence more often, as no harm had come to her, and she doubted he would behave like a barbarian like in the folk tales her father and mother had told her when she was young.

Eventually, Caesar determined her clean enough for his standards, he himself bathed in the public baths, with Selena helping his efforts. Satisfied that he was clean, Caesar left the public baths with his slave in tow. As they made their way to the gates of the city, Caesar noted that the route they were travelling on was strangely deserted, with the more they moved along the path, the more tense Caesar became. It was quiet, eerily so. Quiet like the ruined husks of houses after a looting, he knows the feeling well.

Suddenly, three men dressed in mercenary armor appeared from the alleyways, two of them wielding swords with the third stringing an arrow into his bow. Caesar recognized their intent and moved Selena out of the way. He didn't want his prized slave to be damaged in the fight to come. The first marauder swung at him in a heavy, unwieldy overhead chop which he sidestepped with ease. Caesar unsheathed his sword and quickly dispatched the mercenary, the body flopping to the ground as the man clutched at his stomach.

The second was more skilled than his compatriot, attacking Caesar with quick, lightning fast strikes that aimed at his vital areas. Caesar blocked the marauder's numerous strikes, grunting with effort to block the powerful strikes. As he defended himself against his proficient foe, he noted out of the corner of his eye that the mercenary wielding the bow had yet to fire, the man was still aiming his way, yet had done nothing. Perhaps saving arrows for the right moment to strike? Yes, that was it. Caesar could use that hesitancy to his advantage. He spun around a thrust made by his opponent, making sure that he ended up in the crosshairs of the archer, giving him the perfect shot.

The archer, seeing his chance, pulled his bowstring and let loose his arrow. Caesar jumped out of the way at the last second, watching the arrow fly past him and plant itself in the chest of his assailant. The mercenary clutched at his chest, looking at the archer in shock and betrayal, and fell backwards, landing on the street with a thump. The archer was frozen in shock and disbelief, unable to process what had just happened. Caesar calmly walked up to the shocked mercenary and cut him down in a swift fashion, blood being splattered on the street as he cut the marauder's throat.

Caesar checked the bodies of the mercenaries, noting their cheap equipment and subpar attempt on his life. The first assailant he killed had 20 Denarii on his person, the archer had 40, and the final one had 40, totalling around 100 Denarii. He scoffed at the paultry amount. He was worth more than that. He pocketed the coins and lead Selena back to camp. Valgo met him in his tent and gave him a report of his men. They had wine while the centurion gave his report, and Caesar was pleased with what he heard.

So far the new recruits were progressing nicely. They had become somewhat adept in the fighting style of the legionnaire, but they had a long way to go before they were ready to don the armor. They were, at the very least, disciplined and knew how to follow orders.

"With the way they are progressing, I wouldn't be surprised if they were ready to be called legionnaires by the time we make it to Germania. They are promising recruits,"Valgo said.

"I'm glad to hear it. In a few weeks time we will be butchering barbarians and becoming rich, my friend," said Caesar as he drank from his chalice.

The two men continued to talk for a good portion of the evening, the topics ranging from planning and battle strategies to what cheeses they liked. Suddenly a shout from a sentry drew their attention, and the alarm bell was struck. They were under attack, but from what Caesar wondered. Who would be stupid enough to attack a camp of legionnaires? He and Valgo put on their armor, armed themselves, and rushed to the main entrance to the camp, surprised to find silician pirates of all things attacking their camp, with bandits and gladiators in their ranks.

The sentries were barely holding back the group of marauders at the gate, three shields held back thirty or so raiders from storming the camp. Soon more legionnaires joined the fray, swiftly and efficiently thrusting their blades into the masses of bodies, with pained grunts and screams meeting their blades. Caesar and Valgo rushed into the battle, drawing their swords and stabbing and hacking at the attackers with abandon, felling many between themselves. Soon enough, there were only a few enemies left, and the legionnaires swiftly cut them down. Caesar looked around and saw a few legionnaires had been slain in the battle, and he was saddened and dissapointed.

"Good soldiers they were, it's a shame to have lost them." he said to himself.

As the bodies of both the marauder and legionnaire alike were hauled away, Caesar and Valgo went to the burning of the bodies of the fallen legionnaires, silent in respect for the men, and both shortly retired to their tents for the night. Caesar was still saddened by the loss of his men, despite not knowing them long he had grown fond of them, as they were his men, and his alone. Sure he had commanded men while he served under his father, but they were still his father's men, not Caesar's. These men however, were his, and the loss made itself known.

He saw Selena setting out his evening meal, but ordered her to put everything away. He wasn't feeling very hungry at the moment. Soon enough, it was time to retire. They made their way to their respective beds, but Caesar motioned towards his bed. He wanted, no, needed company tonight, and she was the only acceptable option to him.

Selena paused at first, nervousness plauging her eyes, but eventually overcame it and laid next to Caesar. She was stiff as a board, not wanting to bother her master, and not sure what she should do. She decided on lying on her side facing away from Caesar. He seemed different than when he left to deal with the attack. He seemed...down. Sad is the best word she could use to describe her master. She heard shuffling beside her and tried to appear still, but she needed no help to do so once she felt arms around her midriff, and a warm, muscled body against her. Her master's arms tightened around her, almost clinging to her. Then the arms began to shake, and heavy breathing filled the tent. At first, she didn't know what he was doing until small droplets of liquid were felt on her back, the droplets sliding down into the bed. She put her hands into his and squeezed, trying to comfort him. She didn't know why she was comforting him, she was his slave. But this man, this man was different. She felt towards him something she never felt towards anyone else in her entire life. She didn't know what it was that she felt, but it was strong, and it wouldn't go away.


End file.
